


what you'll be missing

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [44]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Organized Crime, Original Character(s), Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose and John's reunion is brief before life sets into motion again. </p><p>Takes place after "being for the benefit of miss lalonde?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. an abrupt departure

**== >Rose: Rest in the hospital**

After the pleasant reunion with John, you have another question. “What day is it?”

“Tuesday, September Second…” but John’s not as interested in that statement as he is with his iHusk. He’s quickly texting, biting his bottom lip. His knee bobs up and down, unable to sit still.

You frown. “John…what’s wrong?”

John’s eyes go wide like a deer in headlights and then gives you his patented stage-perfected smile. “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong. Just letting everyone know you’re alright.” 

Maybe the smile would’ve fooled you if you didn’t know John’s occupation. “John. Tell me what’s going on.”

John shakes his head. “Its not that big of a deal, Rose. Really.” You treat him more with The Stare and finally John cracks under the pressure. He drums his fingers on his legs; playing an unseen piano. “Its sort of complicated right now. I think Dirk’ll explain once he gets here.”

“What does Dirk have to do with this?”

“Its just sort of…the way things are? Temporarily.” John insists. “Just sort of…go with things for now until Dirk gets here? And like, don’t panic?”

“Why would I panic?”

John looks nervously at the door and (as if on cue from a stage manager), a smiling nurse enters wearing pink and purple patterned scrubs. “Miss Strider! I see you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

You look at John who gives the ‘just go with it’ look. You shoot him the ‘you have a lot of explaining to do’ but you’re not sure how well it translates. You offer the nurse a smile. “Yeah, that’s me and I’m just feeling tired. Can’t wait to get home.”

“Oh same here! Can’t wait to go home and put my feet up.” The nurse laughs as she goes over your chart. “You’re very lucky to have such a supportive family, Ms. Strider. Your father and boyfriend is always here to see you.”

“Yeah. Lucky me.” You say with a smile that you hope isn’t too strained by the unfamiliarity of the situation.

The nurse does her usual duties: checks your blood pressure, heart rate, and then your chart. You’re thankful when she takes off the oxygen mask and takes out the IV. “It seems like your system’s stabilized. Your vitals are back to normal and that toxin’s left your system.” the nurse informs you, “I’ll call your father and let him know you’re awake and he can take you home.”

“I can’t wait for that.”

The nurse gives you some papers to sign and prescriptions for medicines to stave off infection and instructions on when to call the doctor. When the nurse leaves you look at the hospital wristband and see there are two ID bands wrapped around your wrist. The one on top is labeled ‘Melrose Strider’; underneath it is ‘Jane Bloggs’, a common placeholder name.

You look at John. “You said they retscanned me, but my name would’ve been in the system.”  

John clears his throat, checks the door to see how far away the nurse has gone, before saying, “When they ID’d you, they contacted your mother. She said she was hiding herself and you from her abusive husband, who’s in town, and everything would be in the hands of your legal guardian since she was scared to leave the house. Dirk’s already on your emergency support list so…”

“Oh. How… _convenient_.”

You’re not in a good mood when Dirk comes through the door fifteen minutes later. He’s not carrying balloons or stuffed animals, but a large blue duffel bag. You always had difficulty reading his expressions but now Dirk’s even guarding his body language.

Dirk puts the duffel bag on the floor and opens it. “We have to leave now.” He takes out a small plastic baggie of hairpins and rubber bands. “You’ll need this to pin your hair back for the wig.”

“Wig?” You can’t tell if Dirk’s radiating focus, seriousness, or indifference. His voice is flat and his muscles are relaxed. “Dirk, what’s going on?”   

“Rose,” Dirk says, cutting through your argument, “your life is in great danger.” You don’t say anything so Dirk expands, “You know too much and I’m sure your ex-boss wants to keep that knowledge from federal hands.”

Dirk looks at you and you realize that he’s doing the same thing you are: trying to read your body language. To keep him from reading you like a book, you go completely still although your heart picks up speed. You shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Scrate would have you killed. You know too much. Who would do it? Would Joan bash your head against the wall or strangle you? Would Cal sneak up and slit your throat? Would they make it look like an accident with poison or suffocation?

Dirk pulls out a grey hoodie and jeans; clothes intended to blend in. “If they already knew you were here, you would be dead. I’m taking you to a safe house.”

You get dressed in a hurry, pulling the clothes over your hospital gown. John helps you pin your hair back and apply the wig.

“John, I’d tell your mother or Dave to come get you. I wouldn’t risk taking a cab.” Dirk says.

“I’m not going anywhere.” John says.

“John…”

John looks at Dirk, “I’m not leaving her.”

Dirk’s annoyed but he’s being resigned about it; suppressing what would be a sigh or shout at John. “Let’s hurry.”

You put on sneakers that are a size too big and leave the room with Dirk in front and John in back of you. The hospital halls are calm with few nurses on patrol and some patients doing the slow march to the front desk for dismissal. You get to the ground floor and cross the emergency room lobby to the entrance. Wet and humid air hits your hair when you exit the hospital. A car is waiting for you in the emergency drop-off area, with a mutantblood driving. John and you get into the back seat while Dirk gets into the front. He talks to the mutantblood in Trussian. The mutantblood laughs and the car rushes from the hospital.

John squeezes your hand and gives you a weak smile, but you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. You’re too frightened to say anything. Your stomach feels queasy. The mutantblood keeps talking in Trussian and Dirk gives minimal responses. Neither you nor John speak up about who this is or where they’re taking you. You expect to be taken somewhere rural; Becquerel or another unlikely location. Instead, you return to the trailer park. You drive down Weatherborn Lane, past a massive trailer (well its less trailer and more of a house by this point) and to a modest two-level trailer surrounded by an overgrown garden. You get out of the car and hurry inside.

The trailer’s currently empty but lived in. There are Trussian magazines on the table and there’s not a speck of dust to be found. Weapons hang on the wall without grabbing distance: sickles, guns, and swords. There are old Trussian posters depicting mutantbloods. Every window is covered in shudders and a curtain for upmost privacy. There’s an indoor staircase so whoever did modifications paid out the nose for this. Or did they have something on the DD? You’ve never been to this part of the park so you don’t know who lives here.

“Make yourself at home.” Dirk says. “You’ll have a company so be glad for that. You don’t leave this building. Period. You don’t go outside. You don’t go for a walk. You don’t look out the window.”

You sit on the old couch which sags under your weight. “How long am I supposed to stay here?”

“Maybe a few weeks.” Dirk shrugs slightly. “Maybe a few months.”

“ _Months_?” you say, “What about school?”

“Not really your priority anymore.” Dirk says.

“But I can’t stay here for a month!” you say. “The school will think I dropped out. I have to call the school and let them know I can’t physically attend class!”

Dirk slowly inhales, exhales, and then says. “What are you going to tell them, Rose? That you’re in hiding because someone is trying to kill you? In order for the school to allow you to take online classes, the school board will want a reasonable explanation and a permanent address. An address that the person trying to kill you will _go to._ ”

“I can’t give up on school. I’m up for a scholarship.”

“You can’t get a scholarship if you’re _dead,_ Rose.” Dirk’s teeth are clenched.

You refuse to back down. “Why is this place so safe? If another gang war happens, wouldn’t I be safer out of the park?” You glare at John, “And what exactly is going on? Because John, you, and my mother all seem to have already conspired about this.”

“We had a long conversation.” Dirk replies. “This place is the safest house in the Ninth Ward.”

You’re not in the mood for vagueness. “You were speaking Trussian in the car. This is a Trussian house. You’re…part of the Trussian mob aren’t you? That’s why you can protect me. The Cherubs would eagerly shoot me full of holes but not if it’s a risk of all out war with another gang.”

Dirk’s responds, calmly, “If you’re going to be this difficult I can’t protect you.”

You glare at him, “I’m not being ‘difficult’, Dirk! Just because I don’t bend to your every whim doesn’t mean I don’t want your help, but you can’t jerk me around. I’m not your child. I don’t have to obey you just because you say so.”

You see a crack in the dam of Dirk’s body language mask. His fingers twitch uneasily and his legs move back, as if he wants to get away from you, but then stops. He’s back to masking his body language but why? Does he realize you’re observing him just as hard as he’s observing you?

“Uh,” John says, finally speaking up, “when the Cherubs realize Rose isn’t at the hospital or school, won’t they go to her house? The police may give up the address. They still retscanned her as Rose Lalonde.”

“Yes, but your hospital name was something else meant and your actual name was concealed. That means only the officers on duty for you would know your true identity. For them to give up that information, that Melrose Strider is actually Rose Lalonde, is a high risk. The fingers would immediately get pointed at them. Part of trading information is keeping yourself hidden. Roxy says you never invited any of the Cherubs home so they wouldn’t know where you lived.”

“No, I didn’t invite them home. I did talk about living in the trailer park though I didn’t say which street. And…” Your heart seizes in your chest when you realize you were in Summoner Park in your underwear. You look at John, “John, you said I was in Summoner Park in nothing but my underwear?”

John nods. “That’s what I was told.”

“And I had nothing else with me? On the night I was drugged, I was at a party. I was wearing a dress and I had my purse with me.”

John looks at Dirk worriedly. “They said you didn’t have anything on you.”

“What was in the purse?” Dirk presses.  

You rub your forehead. “I don’t remember clearly…”

“ _Rose_. Its _very_ _important_ you remember what was in the purse.” Dirk’s voice is strained. He’s stressed and trying not to yell.

“I’m _trying_. It was two days ago.” You say, agitated by his tone.

Your mind is soupy, full of nonessential details. Scrate parading you around. Cal helping you dress. Callie stubbornly fiddling with the broom. Caliborn looking large and out of place, like a mountain squeezed into clothes. The taste of the dinner course and the pangs of nausea remembering what you ate. How chewy the taste of unborn troll was. You’d retch if your stomach wasn’t painfully empty. You try to recall the purse, which disappeared during your hallucination. You stick your fingers into the mental vapor and try to dredge up the memory.

 “I-it was a party so I didn’t bring my full purse. I borrowed one of my mother’s clutch purses and it had…Tide-to-go for spills because we were eating, mints…pepper spray and…my iHusk and state ID.”

Dirk doesn’t say anything and John looks pale.

“Oh my gods.” You breathe. “The state ID has my name and address…my iHusk has all my contact information. Oh gods. They…they weren’t at the hospital because they know where I live. They’re going to come here no matter what we do because I fucked up.”

“Rose, take a deep breath.” Dirk says.

“What about my mother? She’s in danger too! They…they’ll…” You think of those trolls in Aniline End; gutted and left lying in alleyways or crammed into dumpsters. Being scooped up and dumped into the underground cesspool with the rest of the garbage. “…what about everyone else? He’ll figure out where the others live too…I…I’ve put us all in danger. If they can’t have me, they’ll go after the rest of you a-and then…”

You’re starting to feel dizzy and the ground comes closer to your face. John grabs you before you can keel over. You’re huffing and puffing but no air is coming into your lungs. And when did you start shaking?

“Rose, its going to be alright. Try to breathe.” John says calmly running his fingers through your hair.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Dirk quickly goes to the kitchen and returns with a paper bag. He holds it up to your face, “Control you breathing, Rose. Flipping out isn’t going to help anyone.”

You breathe into the bag slowly but you don’t feel calmer. This is just another big fuck-up along the train of smaller fuck-ups you’ve committed over the summer. If you weren’t exhausted, you would cry.

“The situation seems worse than it actually is.” Dirk says but his flat statement gives you no comfort. “The Cherubs can’t keep hunting you forever. Sooner or later they have to leave.”

“What makes you so sure they’ll leave?” John asks, “Why’s this Scratch guy even here?”

“I’m not sure why the Cherubs are here. New Jack is not their territory.” Dirk admits, “They’re a very secretive gang and maintain their control through a network all over the planet. No one’s sure how they really operate or what their goals really are.”

You swallow but your mouth is suddenly very dry. “I…I think I know why Scrate is here. The Cherubs are doing business with the Brotherhood but Scrate’s been occupied with WMS about Lil Cal doll shipments.”

Dirk raises an eyebrow. “Doll shipments?”

You nod. “I was the secretary so I wrote letters and kept appointments. Scrate worked with Lil Cal Pictures and they donated a lot of toys to the children hospitals and foster homes in New Jack. The toys were shipped from overseas and anything shipped overseas has to go through WMS’s port in Happy Harbors because of their monopoly. The Brotherhood and other gangs paid WMS a flat rate for shipping but the Cherubs were getting shipment free of charge.” You only know that latter part because of your and Cal’s snooping.

“Why only ship toys from overseas?” John asks, “There’s plenty of factories here that make Lil Cal toys.”

“Scrate said it was because he was trying to support overseas operations in Leder and Raffil since their economy is so depressed.” You roll your eyes, “He bragged that every doll was made by employees resisting the violent gangs in the Leder, Lew, and Raffil and helped them maintain financial independence from criminal organizations.” It was that sort of purple prosy bullshit that politicians (and yourself) ate up.

“Its not shipping. Its smuggling.” Dirk grumbles, “Those dolls are made in the Triangle of Despair because it’s a hotbed of trafficking.” He rubs his chin, frowning, “Scrate and his ilk are scouts. They’re here for expansion. He picked you because he wanted to judge the climate of New Jack’s poor because they’re going to be the targets. I’m sure you’ve told him all about what the people here are like.”

You shirk back and your stomach twists into a tighter knot.

Dirk leans against the opposing wall, arms folded. “If Scrate is a scout then…he will not leave immediately. He wouldn’t want his superiors to know he blundered and you got away with information. He’ll want to tie up loose ends before he leaves New Jack for a follow-up report.”

You wonder how long you can survive being under house arrest. How long before you’re starved for sunlight and try to run outside? Dirk doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t bother trying to cheer you up because things look grim.

“The Cherubs will not be blatant with their movements.” Dirk states. “You can’t find a single person in a panicked mob. They’re going to wait to see if you come quietly before violence happens. Maybe they’ll try to contact you with the promise of amnesty or wait until you leave your home. They’ll prefer to have you killed somewhere else; like an abandoned building, so you’re still the safest here. We’ll…think of a better option later.”

Dirk walks to the door. “You should make yourself at home. There’s plenty of food in the fridge. The woman who runs this place, Kedin, is very nice and a good cook.”

John is drumming his fingerings on his leg. He always pretends to play piano when he’s thinking. “What about misdirection?” he asks.

Dirk looks at him, eyebrows raised.

John continues, “If Rose is going be in the safe house won’t someone notice that? Like, you coming here all the time and delivering food? What if they like plant a bomb in the car or poison the food?”

Dirk frowns, “That won’t happen. I can tell when I’m being followed and I come here all the time, so it won’t stand out as strange.”

“But if someone figures out you’re delivering food and things to Rose here, they’ll still try to figure out how to get in. What if you slip up? What if they bribe someone here?” John stands, staring Dirk down, “Do you remember Miss Nevitz?”

“Am I supposed to?” Dirk asks.

“I remember her.” You say, “She lived in the Squalor and she owned a piano. You used to take lessons from her when we were in middle school. She was part of the church, right?”

John nods. “Miss Nevitz was a brownblood who worked in the church. Her brother was in the UBK and she was trying to get him and others out of it. I guess the UBK boss didn’t like that because they put a hit out on her. She didn’t tell me why, just that it wasn’t safe to go to her house, but I’d still sneak to go check on her. She was scared to leave her apartment so she’d have a kid deliver her food. He went to my church too. One day I went to go check on her and there were police all over. She’d been shot on her doorstep. And I knew it was the kid that did it.”

“How do you know it was him?” Dirk asks.

“Miss Nevitz lived alone and at that point she only opened her door for two people: me and him. All she wanted to do was help people…” John swallows, glaring at Dirk, “That’s why I think we should use misdirection. It’s an essential part of stage magic. You make the audience focus on something else to distract from something else. We should make the Cherubs concentrate on the wrong place. We’ll have them waste so much time and energy they’ll have to give up on Rose.”

“And how do we do that?”  

“I can pick up Rose’s things and bring them to her trailer,” John says, “and make it seem like she’s there. Meanwhile someone else secretly takes the supplies to her here.”

“John, no!” you say, “They’ll realize what you’re doing and come after you. They could kill you.”

John smiles sadly. “Rose, I’ve been visiting you in the hospital every day. All the nurses know I’m your boyfriend.”

“We were broken up until now.” You scowl, “What _else_ did you tell them?”

“It’s not John’s fault about the lie that you didn’t break up. I told him to tell the nurses you were still together. Nurses are more likely to help and be sympathetic towards a drugged up teen with a romantic life. I had him play up the ‘we haven’t seen each other and here she is’ factor so he could stay longer.” Dirk says. “And John raises a point: we’re all in danger. All we can do now is protect you and hunker down and wait through the storm like we always do.”

“You _can’t_ be agreeing to this!” you say, standing. “John can’t become a target for me! I’m not going to let anyone get hurt because I fucked up. I’ll go to the Che…”

The world blurs, fading out like the end of a film. Everything is spinning and you fall over before darkness smothers you. When you wake up you’re lying on the couch looking at the ceiling.

John is kneeling next to you. “You passed out.”

Your head is pounding. It’s a struggle just to sit up.

“Your system’s still drained, Rose.” Dirk says. “You should eat.”

“I’m fine.” you grumble, “I’m just…this entire situation is…”

There’s nothing more you can say about it. You’re too tired to think of new words to describe of how badly you fucked up. John looks at Dirk, unsure of what to say. You can’t see what Dirk is doing while you’re lying on the couch but you can still hear him. John squeezes your hand supportively but you don’t say anything. You just want this situation to go away. You want to go back to your petty life of fretting about school and relationships.

You just want to go home.

John puts a blanket around you before he leaves. You’re still shivering and cold but too tired to do anything. 


	2. home away from home

**== >Rose: Wake up **

When you wake up, you still have a headache and you don’t know what time it is. The large trailer is eerily silent. The door opens and you bolt upright on the couch. Its not someone with a gun coming through the door but a human woman in a powder blue jacket with a close-fitting stand-up collar and loose trousers. In her arms is a child in identical clothes. They’re wearing ‘colonist suits’, meaning she’s an immigrant with not a boon to her name. ‘Colonist suits’ were only offered by New Jack’s Department of Transition along with spray-on shoes and donated clothes.

The woman looks at you but doesn’t say anything. She puts down the child and goes to the kitchen. The child (who looks to be a boy) stares at you but doesn’t say anything. He turns on the TV and immediately goes to Cartoon Planet. You recognize the theme song for The All New Adventures of Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors. It makes you nostalgic for the times when you used to actively watch the show with John, Dave, and Jade.  

You still don’t move from the couch or say anything. You stare at the TV but don’t absorb what’s being played. Your thoughts are morbid, full of blood-slick knives and cocking guns. Would you hear the bullet aimed for you? Most likely not. So what’s the point of obsessing? You don’t know, but you can’t distract your mind either.

The ticking of the wall clock seems too loud. The door opens again and an older rustblood enters dragging two kits. Their colonist suits are decorated with plastic pins to make them more appealing. So far there are only three children here, but you have to credit the parents about how well behaved they are. They seem to go out of their way to not pester you or maybe they’ve learned its better not to pester strangers in a safe house. The children still give you quizzical looks. They whisper amongst themselves and are absorbed by the TV.

You wonder what day it is. Then you would know what would be premiering.

When was the last time you watched TV with friends?

You can’t recall. Your head is pounding. Someone turns on the ceiling fan and you watch it rotate. Mindlessly whirring. Not caring whether you live or die.  

What was on the English and History reading list for senior year? Would you be analyzing _Vascular Pump of Darkness_ or _Wild Swans Lusii?_ What’s the point of wondering about school when you can’t even go? You’d get a bullet to the brain before you even got to your first class.

Would you feel the bullet slice through your skull?

Does your brain feel pain or just the disrupted nerves smashed to a pulp?

The children are watching TV. The adults are socializing, mostly crowded around the kitchen. Other people are entering and some are going. You hear very little English and mostly Trussian. A delicious scent comes from the kitchen and its heavy on the smoked paprika and pork.

You slide off the couch and walk upstairs. There’s too much here that reminds you of what you can’t return to. Food. Family. The comfort of the familiar. Upstairs is organized and spacious. Someone did some serious remodeling to get it set up this way. Whose trailer was this in the past? Or did the Trussian mafia always own it? They must’ve had dirt on the DD in order to build and augment so much, or did they own the property? None of the doors are locked so you peek inside the rooms. There are two twin sized beds with crates of canned food and personal belongings under the mattress. Its all bedrooms upstairs and at the end of the hall is a room where you find a bare bed. The other bed is messy but lived in, so you’ll have a roommate.

You only thought about roommates in the context of a college dorm. Now you don’t know if that’ll ever be an option.

You lay down and try to sleep, try to blot out the sound downstairs. The wig is itching your scalp so you finally unpin it and rest it on the bed. You try to sleep but you’re too exhausted, hungry, and anxious.

The door opens and you sit up, but (once again) its not someone with a gun aimed at your head and cold indifference in their eyes. It’s the first woman you saw enter the trailer. She looks at the wig and smiles, “Oh, you’re a blonde. I’m not surprised.” She speaks heavy Trussian accent. You don’t respond but she continues to be friendly, adding, “Mr. Strider told me we’d be getting someone new. Didn’t think it’d be someone so young. I’m Natryosha Kedin.”

“Rose.” You mutter.

“Are you hungry, Rose?”

“Yes...” You admit.

“We’re serving dinner now.”

Ms. Kedin leads you back downstairs to the kitchen. There’s a large pot of orange-red sauce that smells strongly of paprika, a pot of cabbage, a hot tray full of meat-stuffed bell peppers stuffed. Ms. Kedin doles out food to you and the others. You feel like you’re in a soup kitchen and looking at some of the people here, they’re only a step away from homelessness. There’s only two close to your age. One is a troll missing an arm. The other is a human girl, addict skinny with tract marks down her arm.

You sit in the living room on a chair pushed into the corner. The kids eat quickly and then run outside to play for as long as possible. Some of the adults eat on the porch but you have no choice but to remain indoors. The skinny human girl sits next to you, anxiously scratching her rib cage and glancing at you on occasion. At first you think its just junkie’s itch but its _you_ that’s making her uneasy.

“Is…there something wrong?” you ask.

The girl blinks and then says in a raspy voice, “You don’t know me, huh?”  

“Um…I don’t think so.” You say.

“I sat next to you in Algebra One and I was in your group twice for Chemistry.” she says.

“You were?” You still can’t place her face.

“That’s funny.” She smiles bitterly. “Thought everyone and their brother at PS 341 knew about Beck Stevenson.”

 _“Beck Stevenson?”_ After all the stories that were built up around her, you never thought of the infamous Beck Stevenson as a real person. And yet here she is, a sickly skinny girl with a buzz cut.

Your look must say it all because Beck smiles, showing her yellow and worn down teeth. “Yeah, I’m real.” she says, “Its funny. People always remember my name but not what I look like. I tell people I’m Beck Stevenson and they go ‘seriously?’.” She smiles bitterly, “Guess its cause I was a lot heavier. Soporin’s the only diet that worked for me.”

“Soporin will fuck yo’ up.” says the one-armed redblood, “My guy was a serious addict.”

“The drugs got him?” You assume he’s dead from his past tense usage.

The redblood shakes his head. “Someone else.” He swallows nervously, “Fucker gutted him like a pig…only reason I’m here is ‘cause I did favors for the right people.”  

The redblood says his name is Ellton and he’s honest about his unsavory past (or from what you can tell). His “guy” (a quadrantless boyfriend you assume), was Brotherhood and from the description sounded like Gamzee but much older and five times worse. Ellton’s here for the same reason you are: convinced someone is going to kill him and saw the person who did it. 

“It was a cybernetic woman.” Ellton says, “I ain’t no saint and neither was Quinoa. We needed quick cash so we’d sell whatever stash ain’t been used or mebbe mug people. I ain’t proud o’ it. One night, he try to mug dis human chick just walkin’ ‘bout at night like it ain’t no big deal. She turned da tables on him though. Broke da knife off and used it on Quinoa not breakin’ a sweat even. While she was busy…I ran and hid like a fuckin’ coward.”

“How do you know she was cybernetic?” a rustblood asks.

“Cause I gotta good lookit their face. Dey had da red cybernetic eyes and I could see da red circuits under da skin ‘specially ‘round da face.” Ellton says, “My old man was an engineer in Midway City. He worked at Crockercorp Manufacturing Buildin’ where dey made cybernetic prosthetics. He was workin’ to get me a new arm but da factory shut down before he could get da insurance benefits. We couldn’t afford anyplace nice so we stayed in Aniline End. Mom got sick livin’ there and her medical bills were pricey…she died of cancer and Dad fell apart…he started drinkin’ real bad. He got violent so I left with Quinoa…now Quinoa’s dead…”

His eyes are watery as he admits this. Everyone is more willing to share after Beck and Ellton speak up.

The rustblood says her name is Oksana Ariete, an immigrant straight from Trussia. She came to New Jack City with nothing and became good friends with a ‘Sergei Vantas’. That doesn’t explain why she’s in hiding, but you realize she must be one of the ‘den mothers’; making sure its safe and keeping the peace when Ms. Kedin is occupied.

A yellowblood says they were rescued from a shipping container with other trolls destined for sexual slavery abroad. You’re more enigmatic on your reason for being here. “I got in with the wrong people. I was hired by someone who turned out to not be who they were. I’m just…lucky to be here but everyone I know is danger. I feel so foolish.”

“Was it an older guy?” asks Ellton. You nod and Ellton sighs, “Its always da older guys. Lurin’ people in. I hear dat sister.”

After that you don’t feel like talking anymore. Close to sunset, everyone piles inside of the trailer and it goes into lock down. Doors are bolted securely, Natryosha and Oksana check every window, and a security system by the window is turned on. Everyone crowds the living room to talk but you return to your new upstairs room. You don’t want to make new friends. You want to see the old ones. You lay on the bed and your headache slowly returns. Downstairs, the din of noise escalates and you hear your name. There’s the creak of someone ascending the stairs. 

You’re already sitting up when Dirk enters the room, carrying his duffel bag. He shuts the door and puts the bag on the ground. “Your mother thought you should have a few things. You can put them in the storage crate under the bed.”

Dirk opens the duffel bag and holds up your husktop and huskpad, “She also thought you’d like these. Now: _do not_ login to anything you’ve used to socialize or communicate with Scrate. That means no Trollbook, Trollumblr, Trollichum, YouTube, email, et cetera. Other than that, enjoy.”

He hands you your husktop and huskpad and goes back to the duffel bag, unpacking everything onto the bed. “She also packed your blankets, extra clothes…feminine stuff…”

“Uh. Thank you.” You say, “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to be so angry…I know you’re trying to help and I appreciate it. Everything. I know we’ve always had a…tense relationship.”

“Tense…” Dirk mulls the word over. “Tense about what?”

“Its just that. Well…”

You had everything planned out for this moment ever since you found that picture of your mother and Dirk.  The question that’s always rolled around in the back of your head. But now that you have the opportunity to express it, to finally solve the mystery…your mind fails. You draw a blank. Your heart is pounding and you’re petrified. Dirk doesn’t move either; like frightened prey watching a bigger predator.

Slowly, he eases to the door and opens it slightly. “I’ll tell Roxy you’re alright.”

Panic forces the question out of you.

“A-are you my father?” you blurt out.

Dirk pauses. Then he sighs, shuts the door, and turns around. “Is that why you got into a fight with Dave? You wanted to know if it was possible if I was your father? And Dave got upset because he hates having his status quo altered?”

“That and he called my mother a whore.” You swallow, “But…yes. I…want to know if you’re…my father.”

Dirk folds his arms. “My sexuality aside, the truth is that yes, I did sleep with your mother and was in a relationship with her but it was for the purpose of work.”

“Work?”

“Yes.” Dirk admits, “This was years ago when I was an immigrant in Leder. In order to give myself more social and physical mobility, I needed to marry a citizen. Your mother needed someone to marry who would allow her more freedom than Shongolia tradition allows. So we got married and aside from the first night, we spent our time apart.”

“So why did you sleep with her?”

Dirk lets out an exasperated sigh. “Because, in traditional Shongolian culture, the woman has to be proven a virgin or she’d be cast out and bring dishonor upon her family. And apparently people had lied in the past about the bride’s chastity so consummation was done with witnesses.”

The fact such medieval practices still exist turns your stomach. “So…there were people watching?”

“Listening. There was a curtain…” Dirk sighs, “And yet, it was only the _third_ worse sexual experience I ever had.”

You’re not going to ask about the first.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant until months later but by that time we were in New Jack and not on… _speaking_ terms. What happened in Leder…changed everything.”

“Were you always…” You hesitate, “I don’t how you identify.”

“I’m not fond of labels. I would use ‘queer’ but it has unfortunate connotations in Leder that I…at that time I wasn’t really that cemented in who I was. I was still young and trying to…figure things out. It wasn’t until much later that I…” He pauses, frowns, and then starts over again, “I’m not attracted to the feminine. End of story.”

“So that’s all I was for you? A job?”

“I didn’t know you were _mine_!” 

Its the first time you hear an emotion actually break Dirk’s voice. You can’t see his eyes behind the shades but you notice the uncomfortable tics and twitches. Dirk’s just as anxious around you as you are of him.

“I didn’t know your mother was pregnant. We were only together for a few months before all hell broke loose.” Dirk continues, sounding more frustrated. “And at that time…I didn’t know if I was attracted to men or women so I tried…experimentation. You know how it is when you’re young. You do things and sometimes the results make a…a _permanent_ _mark_. But Roxy…your mother…was the only woman I’d ever really ‘been’ with…so…there’s… _that_.”

“I…I’m not _blaming_ you.” you say, gently, “I just always wanted to know why you didn’t tell me. I just wanted to know what kind of man my father was.”

“What was I supposed to say to you, Rose? ‘Hey Rose, I’m your Dad but your mother and I aren’t on speaking terms and you were an accident. I’ve been ignoring you because I don’t how to deal with my feelings in a healthy manner. But we’re still cool, right?’ You’re getting upset just hearing that.”

“I’m not upset...” You feel a lump in your throat as you choke the words out.  

Dirk frowns and takes off his pointed shades. You’ve never seen his eyes but they’re a bright mutant orange. “Your mother didn’t want to be dependent on me. We were young when we became parents and…Leder was traumatic for everyone. We lashed out at each other because the actual people who caused us pain were long dead. I…still blame myself for what happened to Jane’s father, John’s father, and Meenah’s matesprit…and…so many others. They were good people. Good people were killed because I failed to mediate what was going on and it exploded into a wave of senseless violence…“

Without the shades, Dirk’s aloofness is gone. He looks haunted; constantly faced with the monstrosity of what he’s seen.

“I found a picture of you and my mother when you came to New Jack City. The date was a few months before my birth but Dave was there. He was a toddler. Is Dave my uncle?”

“No.”

“Is he your…brother?”

“In everything but biology.”

“So where is he from? Where are his parents?”

“They’re dead and for Dave it doesn’t matter because Jake and I are his family.” Dirk says, “He’s happier not knowing certain things.”

“I know. It upsets him to think otherwise, especially of you.” You smile, “He loves you a lot.”

“I’m all Dave’s had for years and he’s uneasy about change. Its not his fault he’s that way.”

“What do you mean?”

Dirk frowns and puts the shades back on. “I’d rather not be here all day explaining what happened in Leder. It’s a long and unpleasant story and...” He sighs, mentally wrestling with himself about what to say next. “I’ll tell you. Eventually. When I think the time’s right. I…promise.”

“I’m not sure what your promises are worth.” But you smirk as you say it, needling him in a friendly manner.

Dirk smirks back. “They’re only worth as much power as you give them.”

You decide that’s the best you’re going to get from him. When he leaves, you locate a power panel and plug in the husktop. When you turn it on, there’s an unfamiliar notepad icon on the desktop. There’s also a new program installed and pinned to your taskbar, ‘Pesterchum’. You suspect the desktop shortcut is spyware (and the unknown program too) but the notepad says ‘READ ME – FROM MOM.txt’ so you open it:

 

log into pesterchum under ‘unsightlyWeaver password: zoologicallydubious’

love, mom

 

You look at the new program installed on your husktop called Pesterchum. You’ve never heard of it, but you open it and log in under the account. Immediately, you get a message.

 

\--ectoBiologist[EB] began pestering unsightlyWeaver[UW]!--

 

EB: rose!! you’re finally online! :D

UW: John? Why do you have this?

EB: your mom told us about pesterchum and how its like a third party app. apparently people in leder used this a lot more when she was a kid and then it stopped being popular? and its trollichum compatible so we can talk! :)

UW: Oh, John. I miss you so much…

EB: i miss you too, rose, but i’m just glad you’re safe. did you get the stuff your mom sent you?

UW: Yes.

EB: heh. your mom’s really smart about how to make it look like someone’s living there when they’re really not. she should’ve been a stage magician.

UW: I still don’t like you being involved.  

EB: i know but i want to help.

UW: How is Dirk ferrying things in and out without someone noticing?

EB: he’s going to make it look like he’s doing work on the interior of roxy’s trailer like painting, remodeling, upholstery, etc. so he can move things in and out at all times without it looking suspicious. it also makes your mother’s trailer an easier target because there’s someone there and interior housework means that the door is gonna be unlocked more often.

UW: Did you think of this or did Dirk?

EB: it was kind of a group brainstorm.

UW: We should’ve been career criminals. We would be millionaires by now.

EB: i know right?

EB: anyways i was thinking about how you were freaking out about school and well we could probably use your address in this situation but we have to think of a convincing back story for the school and something that won’t attract police attention. cause dirk said that if you suddenly drop off the map scrate could pull police strings and say you’re a missing person, which’ll make things more difficult cause there’ll be an active search for you with legal backing. 

UW: He won’t be able to hide me if that happens?

EB: no, he can but it’d just be more difficult cause warrants are a thing. he’d have to move you around a lot more.

UW: That would be problematic for someone in hiding.

UW: Hm.

UW: I just thought of something but you’ll have to collab for it.

EB: what is it?

UW: We could say that I went to a party, you knocked me up, and I decided to have my child in private and reflect on my life rather than be mocked.

EB: oh my god that’s the *first* thing you think of?

UW: New Jack City does have the second highest rate of teen pregnancy in the nation and it makes sense for me to stay home.

EB: gods. i’d have to tell my mom that i fake-knocked you up and she should fake-brag about it. it might help our cover but she’ll might be annoyed.

UW: She’s always annoyed when it come to me.

UW: John, I wish I could see you again. Its so strange being here.

EB: it’ll be fine, rose. when this is over, we’ll go somewhere nice. just the two of us. i promise.:)

UW: I’ll just be glad to see a familiar face.

 

You wish you could touch him. You settle for picturing John’s face and bucktoothed smile.

 

UW: John, I wish we could talk all night but there’s someone else I have to talk to.

EB: go ahead. i’ll always be available to talk to you.

UW: Thank you, John. <3

EB: <3

 

\--undyingWeaver[UW] ceased pestering ectoBiologist!--

 

You take a deep breath and summon all your courage.

 

\--undyingWeaver[UW] began pestering turntechGodhead[TG]!--

 

UW: Hey, Dave. Its Rose. Is this a good time to talk?

TG: rose?

TG: is this really you?

TG: what are you doing under that handle?

UW: I can’t use my old one since my ex-boss may be trying to kill me and will see if I’m still around and active. Its complicated. Dirk hasn’t told you this?

TG: no its supposed to be all top secret hush hush what happened to you

TG: i couldnt get anything out of bro or jake about it

TG: but apparently kankri knew and told terezi and karkat who told jade and me and i know other details from john

TG: so we know youre in trouble but not your location or your condition outside of not currently dead

UW: It is impossible to keep a secret around here.

TG: it is kind of a huge fucking deal

TG: i mean like

TG: your exboss wants you dead

UW: Yes, but my ex-boss is a crime lord for an infamous gang with a cult-like influence. This should be expected.

TG: yeah but still

TG: holy shit

UW: Yes. I really know how to take a bad situation and make it considerably worse.

TG: all i know is that you had a near drug overdose and were running around summoner park nearly naked

UW: Oh gods. Is that all everyone is talking about?

TG: well

TG: it is kinda funny

UW: It is not!

TG: is too

TG: are you gone forever because of this?

UW: I…don’t know. I think we’ll just have to see what happens next.

UW: I don’t know how long I can stand being here. I’m not alone but I don’t know anyone here. I can’t go outside or even look out the window. I can’t use Trollian, Trollbook or Trollumblr or play World of Skaia. I can’t do anything that would show I’m active or my location. I have to be invisible. I’m even using this strange Pesterchum program to talk to people but its maddening.

UW: Its all unfamiliar.  

UW: I just want to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

TG: rose calm down

UW: I’m…trying to.

TG: you should think of it like a mandatory vacation

UW: I guess that’s one way of looking at it.

TG: just kick your feet up and relax

TG: you were always so wound up about school and shit

TG: just slack off

TG: take things in stride

UW: Since I’m a Strider, that would be appropriate.

TG: by the way im sorry about what i said about your mother by the way i didnt mean it

UW: I know you didn’t, Dave. I was angry and I should have listened to you and the others about a lot of things. We were both stupid.

TG: still i feel like a shithead for saying that about your mom

TG: jane and her were always nice to me

TG: when i was a kid i thought maybe bro would marry your mom so we could be a family but obviously that didnt happen

TG: i don’t even know where i got the idea from

UW: It’s a cute idea but not feasible. And its not as if what you said about my mother was untrue.

TG: yeah but you were right too bro is your father

UW: Yes, but it wasn’t under the best circumstances. I was an accident and its awkward between him and my mother.

TG: that sucks though i guess its not as bad as jades or karkats parents

UW: What’s wrong with them?

TG: well karkats dad is also his grandpa and currently dead

TG: jades dad is jake and her mom is some crazy murderous chick with pink hair that you know apparently?

UW: Wait.

UW: Joan is Jade’s mother?

TG: whos joan

UW: Joan is Jade’s mother. Oh my gods.

UW: That means Cal is Jade’s brother…that explains why he looked familiar.

UW: Also incredibly awkward because I’m sure Joan is most likely going to try to kill me…

TG: shit between you being my niece karkats dad also being his grandpa jades grandfather trying to kill me jades mom trying to kill you

TG: were all one big screwed up family arent we?

UW: Yes, but we support each other. Well, the parts that aren’t trying to kill each other.

TG: heh

TG: i missed talking to you rose

UW: I missed you too Dave.

UW: Wait, why is Jade’s grandfather trying to kill you?

TG: uh

TG: jade and i sort of

UW: Ha! You both said John and me would be the first to have an accident!

TG: okay in our defense we used a condom

UW: It appears your drill was indeed the drill was pierced the heavens.

UW: And the latex.

TG: rose no

UW: B)


End file.
